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Vid>>>

~~ is it over yet? In my head.

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So there I sat, on the cold tiled floor thinking of all of the scenarios I could use to explain that some guy dressed as the freaking Grim Reaper was trying to break into the house, not to mention I spotted some sort of object in their hands that seemed to reflect the moons light; a knife.

Then in a sense of foreboding I thought out loud, "Could this really get any worse for me?"

A loud lock on the door echoed the kitchen.

I stayed where I was, my pulse beginning to throb in the side of my neck. It had to be the guy in the costume, it had to. But what if it wasn't? Maybe it was a sweet old lady who had lost her way and needed directions?

I smacked my head at that thought. This wasn't Red Riding Hood, I had to think realistically! A Grim Reaper was after me!

There goes realistic, my mind commented, then, Hey, if you don’t say anything, maybe he won’t hear you-

“Let me in Faith, I won’t bite. I'm gentle as can be,” a smooth voice spoke from the other side of the door. The tone of the voice was so alluring and blistfully masculine that for a moment, I honestly wanted to obey it.

My eyes grazed the wall in front of me before sliding up to the door knob from behind. I reached a hand up slowly. My black painted nails were inches from the knob when I blinked once, twice, and realized what I was doing.

"NO!"

I clutched my hand in my lap and crawled away from the door. That bastard wasn't going to step one foot into my house, no way, no how.“Go away psycho, or... I’ll—I’ll call the cops!” I screamed, hoping my parents would hear me.

A pause held in the air as stupidly I waited for a response. "Fine," mystery voice growled, "I'll just come and get you myself, then."

The room temperature seemed to drop as my stumach did and almost immediately, cold air seeped from under the front door.

"GO AWAY!" I repeated, crawling further back from the door until my back hit the far end of the kitchen. I poked my head into the hallway and then back to the front door, were a shadow began to linger under the door ever so slightly, the color of a dangerous storm cloud.

That was when I saw the long silver blade sneak under the door, curved in such an odd shape I found myself getting up from the floor to get a better look.

My eyes went wide.

A scythe.

As quickly as it shot under the door, it disappeared. "Good, girl..." the voice said mockingly, "be afraid of the weapon. Now let me in or I'll cut you into ribbons with it and wear you as a tie," the voice finished sharply.

"Not from here you won't!" I snapped back, my heartbeat pumping to a different beat.

“Then I’ll find another way in,” the voice replied with a splash of amusement.

" Where?" I burst out. " All the doors are locked. My parents make sure every night to--"

"You forgot your window," they pointed out, followed by a deep menacing laugh."I'll walk slowly so you actually have a chance."

I got up hurriedly and slid down the hallway with slipper socks, determined to beat the intruder. In the process I practically slid into the archway of my room, before falling completely against the door and gaining back my momentum.

"How could I let this open! At night!" I scolded under my breath as I reached the large window of my room. I began to heave it down with all my weight as I aways had to. Suddenly, large dark hands slipped from underneath the window and began to pull it back up. Their strength was unbelievable.

“Let…..go……!” I strained to push the window away from them. It was clear they had no problem against my pull and they were just slowly opening it for dramatic effect. Looking down, I got a glance of a jagged tattoo between his dark glove and forearm that ran up the mans sleeve and dissapared.

All of the sudden, he pulled the window entirely open. "Alright, human, I just want to talk. Let's be realistic here; I could really just reach my hands through this gab between us here and snatch you up. I'm being civilized and giving you a chance to hear me out without screaming bloody murder and whacking me with every hard object in your room--not that it's ever happened before or anything," the man explained from outside the house. Their closeness of them sent shivers down my back even though I could only see their arms up to their forearms and then...darkness.

“Faith? Are you ok in there?”

My head whipped around at the nearing sound of my Mothers voice and suddenly the attacker suddenly slammed the window shut, right as the door to my room opened and the lights flickered on and turned to face my Mother with a tight smile.

"Why are you slamming windows?" she asked crankily.

"It was the wind," I said weakly, surprised my voice was crackling like popcorn.

After a few moments of staring at each other my Mother's face softened. “What are you doing up, Faithy?” she asked sleepily. "You know better than to disturb your father when he's sleeping. He has a long day of work tomorrow and you're screaming around the place?" She threw her arms up slightly to reveal handy-dandy pink bat.

I could explain the whole my-mom-is-carrying-a-bat, thing. We had a burglar before. No, not another one dressed as a Grim Reaper, a stereotypical one, ski-mask and all. I happened to be the only one home after school that day on my laptop, when abruptly, I heard the front door burst open and the loud shuffling of feet. Knowing both of my parents had to work late that day I locked my bedroom door, got out my cellphone, and immediately dialed 911.

When they arrived the burglar had disappeared.

As well as a carton of milk.

What a bat-worthy cat burglar, right?

"Faith...?" my Mother asked impatiently. "I asked you a question." She dropped the bat to her side almost in defeat. "What's wrong? Why are you up so late are you having trouble sleeping?"

I debated whether to tell her for a long moment. I was about to say yes, when a knacking feeling began in the pit of my stomach. One that told me it was best not to tell her. “I um… I got hungry....and I took out the trash. I….forgot to do it yesterday,” I lied carefully, avoiding her eyes all together.

I was a pretty readable person...so basically I totally sucked at lying.

She shook her head. “I should ground you for waking us up like that! What were you doing banging on the trash cans! Joining a garage band again?” She put her hands on her hips in a joking way, a smile on her face.

I shook my head with a small smile and then rubbed my tired eyes. "No Ma'. Sorry to wake you up.I had one of those bad dreams again,” I spoke quietly.

And I think I’m still in one of them.

My Mother's expression flickered into something unreadable before she pouted a little and came over to me. “Really? Are you ok? You want to talk about it?”

Was I ok? Oh yeah, I was perfectly fine! Besides the psychotic Grim Reaper that was most likely listening to that very conversation.

My eyes lingered to the bat at my Mother's side. "No, I’m ok…can I have that bat? It might make me feel better."

"Of course." She handed me the bat and pointed at me. “Go back to sleep. And please Honey, stop talking to yourself. It's not a great habit."

My Mother stood in front of me and gazed into my eyes with her light blue orbs as if telepathically trying to figure out what was wrong with me.

I awkwardly cleared my throat. “I’m getting kind of tired Mom, goodnight."

She patted my cheek. “Goodnight, Pumpkin. Oh that reminds me! We are going pumpkin picking with Aunt Sarah tomorrow and Andrew!:"

“Yay!” I said, un-enthusiastically, rolling my eyes professionally.

My mom shook her head at me before crossing my bedroom and closing the door behind her. As soon as I heard the hallway light go off and my parents bedroom door close, I turned to face the window and bravely opened it back up.

I smacked the bat gently into my hand a few times in a taunting, yet intimidating way to the night.

“What a nice night outside!" I announced to no-one in particular. "Hopefully nobody is creeping on me when I have my trusty base ball bat right here! Gosh, all those softball lessons could really take an impact on someones head if was to--you know bash it in.".

I looked around the dark front yard one last time before laughing hysterically to myself.

I’m talking to thin air. Maybe there was no Grim Reaper to begin with.

A wolf-whistle pierced through the air like a knife. My ears twitched, my eyes squinted to try and find the location.

A dark shadow of a man stood at the edge of the lawn, the moon’s light is at full blast and emphasising the contour lines of their costume. His black cloak seemed unmoving, even in the increasing wind, and his hood was completely draped over his face like a mask. In his hand he held a gaunt pole, which attached to an enormously curved blade: a scythe.

I gulped, feeling a metaphorical ball of cotton slowly drift down my throat. I knew exactly who this figure looked like from the beginning, but I secretely prayed that it wasn't really him.

The freaking Grim Reaper.

The cloaked figure gradually tilted his head down as he dipped the scythe down to the front of his hood like a newborn infant. Their head tilted back up and they began to stroke the blade with their long, shadowed fingers as if to say, "You rude little bitch, you should have just let me in.There are so many things I could do to you with this blade and all of them would be extremely pleasurable for myself."

"Oh...God," I sputtered out. Goosflesh gnawed at my skin until a violent, uncomfortable shiver shot down my back.

In one fuid motion I shut and locked the window, locked my door, closed the blinds, and dove onto my bed to hide under the covers.

Instead of bursting into frightening tears I prayed the same thing, over, and over again. "All mighty, might, God. Please let me wake up and be dreaming." I prayed to the heavens, I prayed to Buddha, and I even prayed to an a African god heard about in World Studies.

This night was just my luck.

* * * * *

“Mo—om! I’m eighteen! I think I can skip a freaking Pumpkin Patch trip this year!” I whined entirely with my arms crossed over my chest. I sat on my bed wearing a black t-shirt that said ‘I’m Batman’s Wife," faded blue jeans, and a pair of beat-up converse. After a sleepless night, I decided to keep my long black hair up in a bun.

My Mom sported a similar bun sometimes which she thought was 'fashionable,' but really just made her look straight out of the Flint Stones. Her outfit consisted of a purple blouse, a denim jacket, and dark jeans.Black shape ups covered her small feet, the shoes she had been completely obsessed with ever since she received them in the mail two weeks before.

"Faith, Honey...Darling, you need to come with us! Come on! It won’t be the same. We’ve been doing this since you were born!” She looked off into the distance. Oh God here we go again. “I remember when you were a little baby and we use to get those little mini pumpkins that you still couldn't really grasp in your chubby little hand. You use to love painting them and then throwing them at Daddy when he wasn't looking!”

I laughed. “I still do, it’s just…I don’t feel right. I think I'm getting sick again.”

My stomach had been bothering me all night. I had tried to take a Pepto Bismol once I had woken up but the medicine seemed to have no effect on me. I groaned all night trying to find a comfortable position and try to get the intruder off of my mind.

“What do you mean you don’t feel right?” she interrogated, kneeling in front of me and putting a hand on me knee. “Do you need to go to the doctors? Do you have your—“

“—Mom, I just don’t feel good alright? Why can’t we just go tomorrow or something?”

“Because your Auntie is excited she can bring Andrew with her! Plus, I have work to do tomorrow and your Father's boss surprisingly decided to let him take a few hours off today!”

Funny, all that registered in my head was A-N-D-R-E-W.

Andrew--the new boyfriend of my Aunt who was obsessed with everything a normal male was.

Andrew was one of those people that said whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, where ever they wanted. Don’t know what I’m talking about? I’ll give you a perfect example. One time, he commented on my feet looked like clown shoes, when I was wearing red socks, in a public restaurant that was packed, not to mention the waiter was standing directly in front of him.

Ok, maybe that was a bad example… one time he said my breath smelled like tuna. I would have been fine with him leaving it at that, but no. He added on to the insult by saying the tuna had been laid out in the sun for five days.

But in my defense, we had been eating some pretty smelly Thai food that had plenty of garlic and unidentified spices.

“Why does he have to go everywhere with her? I bet he would waddle into the bathroom at a public restaurant, go into the stall, and watch her pee because he's just that much of a creep," I said.

My Mom looked utterly appalled. “Faith! Enough of that! He is a nice man and you should be happy for her! He's better than that other guy, Joshua, or whatever his name was!”

We both cringed at the same time. Joshua was very....hairy and smelled of Bologna and some serious B.O.

Yes, way worse than the Thai-tuna breath.

As I was about to respond, my stomach abruptly clenched. I made a noise in my throat and clutched my stomach as non-challantly as I could. I looked up to see my Mother had become distracted in the pile of clean clothes on my dresser that were unfolded and didn't see my little outburst.

“Fine I’ll go. But I’m telling you if I throw up..." I twirled my finger in the air a few times before pointing it at her. " it’s aiming at his stupid polo-shirts and khaki pants!"

She glared at me and put her hands on her hip. At that moment my stomach decided to make a weird noise, as if it wasn't digesting right. I put a hand over it, gingerly pressing on it as I slowly felt a strong sense of nausea.

"Honey?"

I looked up from my mom, a frown between my eyebrows.“Sorry, I just---maybe I'm just getting cramps? Or maybe it's your cooking? That meatloaf a few days ago, I could have sworn, was oozing a toxic-looking liquid..."

My Mother rolled her eyes and brushed off my joke as usual. “Get ready.Wear those ugly shoes you use for gym since there will be mud and all at the pumpkin patch. Also bring a jacket because it's suppose to get down to 34 today!"

As soon as she walked out of the room, I ran to the window, and opened it up. I took in a long breath to relief my strong wave of nausea.

"I need fresh air; maybe this Pumpkin path trip will be good for me," I muttered to myself, before eyeing the spot across the lawn where someone had stood the night before.

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By six O’ clock that day we finally arrived at the farm, after driving for what seemed like days. Why we had to go so late, I really never knew.

“Everyone here is so fat,” Andrew whispered to my Aunt, as we walked away from the van.

I muttered a curse under my breath.

Andrew was obsessed with his looks. His blonde hair was never out of place and was combed back perfectly. I could perfectly picture him in a mirror using the smallest tooth of a comb to perfectly align each strand of hair.

Oooh, did I want to just ruffle his head and spit in it.

His shirt was some sort of light blue button down and his pants are white, showing just how stupid he really was. As we walked to the Wagon, he avoided every mud puddle like a ice skater attempting a jump in the air.

What a loser.

We stood at the entrance of the small comfortable shop that the farm owned which contained fresh vegetables and thick, homemade honey as well as other goods. My Mother had gone inside and a few minutes later came out with a bunch of bright orange tickets.

She handed me one with a wide smile.

Moe’s Hounted Hayride! October 25th at 9:00.

I was shaking my head already, grabbing the paper out of her hand. “Mom, don’t even—“

“I always wanted to go to one of those! What about you, Drew?” My Aunt said, pulling on Andrews sleeve.

"Drew" made a noise as if he was growling at her in a playful way, got up behind her and hugged her waist tightly. He slipped his head against her ear and nibbled on her cheek.“Yeah. Same, babe,” Andrew said throatily, his eyes grazing over my loose black sweatshirt and holey jeans with detestation.

I suppressed a gag and looked away from the two of them.

My mother whirled around, taking in the crowds of people hoarding around the cotton candy stands and greasy trailers that held the cheesiest and greasiest of food. “Hold on, let me just find your.... Father—oh there he is!” She pointed by a little sitting area aka a bunch of filthy, disgusting tables that looked like they hadn't been cleaned in decades.

I wondered behind my family to the picnic table and popped a squat after I ordered myself cheese fries. I ate them greedily.

My Parents stayed in line, to order some food. I couldn’t eat that whole morning because of my upset stomach, so I was about starved. There I sat, across from Snobby-Drew and my darling Aunt Sarah, attacking the large carton of cheese fries like a wildebeest when of course Sarah decided to get up to go to the bathroom.

I was stuck with Mr. Snob.

Andrew immediately removed his invisible mask from his features and made a disgusting face at what I was eating.

After seeing five different repulsed faces from him in the corner of my eye I glared up at him. “What are you looking at?” I threw out sharply with a mouthful of fries.

He snorted and smoothed down his polo. “You. You’re disgusting. I hope you know those carbs are going straight to your already-getting-close-to-fat, thighs."

My mouth gaped open, revealing the mush of food I had been chewing.

I let out a snort and leaned towards him. “Yeah, well your non-carb diet doesn’t seem to be working out for you now that I think about it. You have a little bit of a double chin forming,” I motioned to my own chin. "Hope you don't get skin tags, Bucko."

"What? Skintags!" He grabbed at his chin frantically, quickly trying to be nonchalant as I began to laugh loudly.I was really just messing with him, he wasn't fat at all.

My parents thankfully came back moments later with huge, greasy burgers.

Unfortunately, it was then I felt my stomach do an abrupt back flip.

I tapped my Mom on the shoulder. I had to distract myself from this pain in my stupid stumach. "I’m going to go buy the tickets? Are you guys going?”

She looked at Dad. “No, we’re sit in the car. I have a new book I want to read anyways, and your father has been real tired lately and needs some rest,” she said grabbing his hand.

My Dad’s company was laying off a lot of workers because of the economy, especially the worker's that didn'tstand out. He was working really hard to stay at the top of their keep list.

I puckered my lips in a kiss at my Father when I noticed he really did look kind of out of it. But he smiled at me, small wrinkles forming around his tired brown eyes.

With a sad feeling in my chest, I stood up and brushed invisible crumbs off my sweatshirt. "Well, I'll go get the tickets I guess." I then hurried past some hyped up pumpkin pickers and passed a wooden cart full of different shaped-already-picked pumpkins.

Those are for the lazy people who can’t spend thirty minutes of their lives to get a pumpkin straight from the patch, I thought to myself. Hey...I wonder how much they are...

ironically, as I walked into the place the loud sound of an organ playe in the small wooden store, sounding a lot like a Grim Reaper themse song. I laughed at it, remembering the dumb dream I had the night before

I walked to the cash register with a candy apple I had swiped on the way, as well as a small pumpkin. Behind the elderly cashier, I saw t-shirts for the haunted hayride. On the front of the black t-shirt was guy with a Jack O’ Lantern as a head, a Ghost, and a Farmer holding a chainsaw in his hands that could have passed for a dirty butter-knife.

Really?

She motioned to the t-shirts. “Do you want one, honey? Only ten dollars?”

I took in her kind features and instantly gave into her marketing tactics. “Sounds cool. Can I also have three tickets for the Haunted Hayride tonight?”

“Sure thing, three adult?”

I nodded my head.

She pressed some buttons on the register. “That will be eighty five bucks, exactly,” she said with a smile.

I got pretty ripped off, it seemed.

I took the little bag with a t-shirt, and pumpkin and came out of the store into the beautiful sunset sky, feeling even grumpy and tired.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned my head around to see a middle aged man with two small children at his side.“Miss, you got something on your jacket.” I looked down, seeing nothing.

He laughed. “No it’s on the back.”

I turned the sweatshirt around, to see a nice bird shit on it. I huffed. “Thanks,” I mumbled with a laugh. I took the sweatshirt off and put the Haunted Hayride shirt over it.

Now I’m going to be freezing and grumpy at the same time. Fantastic.

I glanced over at my Mother and Father as they were walking towards the van. My Father turned around and gave me a thumbs up, my mother a wave.

“Three minutes for the Haunted Hay Ride!”

Someone else poked my shoulder. I turned to see a familiar blonde haired woman. “Woo! Ditching the parents!” my Aunt cheered and then gave me a hand five.

My Aunt Sarah was the coolest aunt to ever live. Period. And even looked pretty cool for an older lady. At the time, she was twenty eight and had bright blue eyes to match with her short blonde hair, which was the opposite of my mothers, and was ridiculously skinny. Oddly you could say, she hated the sun. She strongly believed the sun was evil and would soon sprout cancer from every individual in the United States.

So naturally, she put on tons of sun block. Even in the winter.

“Yeah, common kiddo!” Andrew said happily, tugging my arm. I gently shoved him away, knowing he was completely acting. How could she not see how phony he was?

“Let’s get this over with," I replied, only smiling at my aunt.

The hayride has two carts, one in the front, and one in the back. The railings were painted a dark orange and the tractor in the front had a pumpkin painted on the side. I sat all the way in the back of the second cart, facing the driver and my Aunt and her boyfriend say on the left side.

Oh, I made sure I wasn’t sitting next to ‘Pretty-Snob- Boy with an agenda.’

The ride began quickly and my aunt let out a dramatic squeal of excitement. She squeezed my knee. “This is going to be so much fun!”

We are literally the only ones on the Hay Ride except for the Tractor Driver, and one guy who was sitting in the back of the hayride in the first cart. His arms were draped along the top of the railing he was leaning against and in his right hand was a cigarette.

The man had the hood of his sweatshirt up, outlined at the neck with his popped up leather jacket collar, worn over his sweatshirt. The guy took a casual drag of the cigarette, letting out a lazy, dramatic puff of smoke which hit myself, my aunt, and Andrew directly in the face.

Andrew's eyebrows knit together. I cringed at a foreboding response from him. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to smoke on a hay ride, Buddy!” Andrew scoffed, taking imaginary lint off of his shirt.

Aunt Sarah beat me too it and smacked him on the chest. "Shutup! He could be crazy."

But it was too late. Andrew opened his fat mouth again and added, "Jerkoff!"

The man in the hood turned his head slightly and then casually flicked his cigarette behind him. "So sorry," I heard him mutter sarcastically as if knowing what would happen next..

I saw the cigarette in slow motion fly right past my head, missing my eye by an inch as I dodged it. The cigarette really should have been aimed at Andrew. For some reason, I knew it was intended for me.

I quickly gave them a daggering look. I was ill, tired, and bored as hell. It was my turn to say something. "That was real mature!" I shouted out, getting a suffocating grasp at my arm from my aunt as she tried to shut me up. "It really emphasized how much of a bad-boy you are, riding alone on a family hayride!" My tone was was supplied with the heaviest amount of sarcasm I could give.

For a sliver of a second I kind of regretted saying what I did. I didn't know if the guy had some serious family issues or something.

Within moments, however, he hooded man remained facing foward, swiftly giving me the middle finger and getting rid of any remorse that even approached my soul.

And so, Andrew began a whole whispered rant about the guy being a total ass. But I found myself ignoring Andrew and staring at the back of the hooded guy's head, getting a terribly strong feeling that the haunted hayride we were riding on would be the best one yet.